“Sure.”
She picked her way back across the grass, and the second she was out of range, Tre shook his head. “Bruh, you gotta cut that loose.”
“It’s handled.”
“Is it? She shows up out of nowhere too much to be a coincidence anymore.”
“She knows the deal. I’ve been honest.”
Zion snorted. “You could tell her you’re planning to treat her like trash and she’d still think she could change your mind.”
“Can we just go eat?” Julian rubbed a hand down his face.
They drifted toward the parking lot, still teasing him. I stayed back, waiting for Micah to finish talking and laughing with a few of his teammates, pretending I had not been listening to any of it.
The lot had mostly cleared by the time I got Micah's gear bag zipped. Julian came over, gloves and a stray water bottle in one hand, and there was a half-second when he glanced toward the fence where Sabrina had stood, then back at me, like he was deciding whether to say something about it.
“Earlier…” he started.
“You don't have to do that.” I kept my voice easy, busying my hands with the bag so I didn't have to look at him. “You don't owe me an explanation, Julian. It's none of my business who showsup to a football game.”
He nodded slowly, then took the bag out of my hands and slung it over his shoulder.
“Anyway. That was a great game. Micah's floating. I had fun.” I lifted the coffee cup, empty now. “And thank you for this. That was thoughtful. I appreciated it.”
“Anytime,” he said.
I called Micah over and turned for the parking lot, very pleased with how mature and fine I'd sounded. He walked with us, without saying anything else. When we got to my car, he loaded the gear bag into the back seat, waited for Micah to climb in, then closed the door.
He tipped his chin at me. “See you at Aunt Lorraine's.”
“See you there.”
“You know the way?”
“Simone texted me the address.”
“Okay.” He walked off toward his car and I sat in the driver's seat a second before I started my car, watching him cross the lot in the rearview, telling myself I'd handled that exactly right and trying not to register the rest of it. That seeing a woman he'd been with had done something small and unwelcome to my stomach. That when I'd heard him tell Tre that it was handled,done, some quiet part of me had felt relief I had absolutely no right to. He didn't owe me a single thing, least of all an ending to something that was never mine to have an opinion about.
Lorraine's housewas beautiful chaos. Too much food, too much noise, Micah and Zhaire turning the den into a Nerf war zone until somebody confiscated the blasters. A few hours in, Micah was rubbing his eyes, leaning against my arm and I knew it was time to head out.
I said my goodbyes, got hugged by every person twice, and Julian carried a half-asleep Micah out to my car and buckled him in as I slid behind the wheel and turned the key.
It clicked. Then clicked again. Then nothing.
“Why won’t it start?” Micah mumbled with his eyes closed.
“It’s okay. It’s just being temperamental.” It very clearly was not.
A knock hit my window, Julian, calm as anything.
I rolled it down. “Hey. It’s fine, really. Just acting up.”
He tilted his head at me. “Pop the hood.”
I pulled the hoodrelease and he disappeared under it for a few minutes, came back wiping his hands on a gym towel.
“Starter, most likely. She’s not going anywhere tonight.” He nodded toward his car. “Grab your stuff. I’ll take you home.” He held out his hand, palm up. “Leave the keys. Whoever comes for the tow might need them.”
